In the corner of space, below a twirling nebula, in a place seldomly visited, and through the doors of a cantina, stood a rusted and beaten robot. It stood tall balancing confidently on a single wheel, its bronze body stretching up to meet its frisbee-like head. Bright lights made do for its eyes, and hands attached to arms the width of wires hung low at its side. This was ARI-47, and it had just confessed to murder.
The audience, or rather the crowd, seemed confused, although the evidence had been clearly laid out for them. A two-headed lady turned to herself and shrugged twice, unsure whether the change in the show was better or worse. An alien made out of small creatures, that were also made of even tinier beings, collectively had an internal discourse on the matter, though a clear verdict was not to be found. However, for Timothy and his friends, the show couldn’t have gone a better way.
“I don’t understand.” Vander Extemorst looked as though he had been put through a washing machine. His face had crumbled, folding in on itself until a frown was plastered above his chin. His once slick suit was now a matted mess, and any dignity or prestige he once held was down the drain. “You?”
The machine turned to its owner with two happy titled lines still plastered across its head. “Yes, sir!” It declared with the pitch-perfect sound of happiness. “This Fortune-Seeker has guessed correctly! His friend was not the perpetrator of the aforementioned crime, no! It was me, sir! It was always me!”
The businessman did not agree. “No… no, you’re just lying!” He stammered. “You’re nothing but a servant!”
ARI’s head tilted so far that he looked at the man sideways. “Sir, I’m programmed to identify patterns, and I think you would like to know that you are still currently following your past inclination towards idiocy! I am not a servant, I am ARI. Artificial, Repairing, Intelligence sir, to be exact!”
Vander’s lip quivered, “no, not you! Anyone but you!”
“What’s the matter? Did you have a higher standard for whoever was gonna eventually take you down a peg?” Jenny spoke up, unable to hide her smile.
“You bite your worthless tongue!” He reprimanded.
“Why are you still fightin’ this?” Sally spoke up. “The kid made his point, and there ain’t no denying it! We can all see the evidence right there on his chest!”
An audible snicker erupted from across the bar as WaldAcker put a hand to his helmet. “Oh, that’s priceless!”
“Stop laughing, you scum! What the hell is so funny?” The businessman turned and barked.
“It was right under your nose!” The man explained with another, even louder giggle. “Like, literally, right under it! He’s been with you this whole time, how didn’t you notice?”
“To answer your question, Fortune-Seeker, Mr. Extemorst is deficient in observational skills!” ARI replied graciously. “F-F-For example! Did you know that the gracious owner of the Extemorst Casino was placed in charge of operations solely due to his incompetence?” The machine's voice was like a game show announcer, proudly describing a prize that had been won. “Now I know what you must be asking, ‘say, how bad at business does one have to be to get tasked with manning a system that is 98% automatic?’ Well, have I got the answer for you! You would have to neglect to read several months’ worth of warnings of an impending meteor strike headed straight towards your business’s main warehouses, that’s how much!”
Vander’s entire frame shivered. “You are not to speak of my personal matters in public!”
“Well, I be damned!” John-John said, leaning back in his chair with a half-smug half-surprised look on his face. “You really are one useless git!”
A few people in the bar erupted into laughter, fingers, claws, and feathers pointing toward the businessman. Pollum Mock made no attempt to hide his, well, mocking. “I hate to say it Vander, but they’ve got ya dead to rights!” He said with a gesture of three of his arms. “Can’t argue with your eyes now, can you? Though I gotta admit, I’m a little jealous that I didn’t get any action in this!” He turned to Alex who was still standing proudly on top of his counter. “Why didn’t I get questioned? I was there, wasn’t I?”
The boy gave him a friendly smile and a dismissive wave. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I did consider you! But you were behind the bar when Corpus was shot, and the blast mark was in his chest. So, unless you have very bendy arms, I doubt that you could have managed it.” He thought about it for a moment, his face suddenly going pale. “Wait… your arms aren’t especially bendy… are they?”
The bartender laughed. “Not particularly!” He then gestured with his not-so-bendy arms to the floor. “Now get off of my damn bar before I break your legs!” Remembering himself, Alex quickly hopped off the bar as Pollum quickly retrieved a rag and wiped it down.
Timothy was still standing beside Sophia, her grip not letting him stray far from her side. He tapped her on her shoulder, making her realize that she was applying way too much pressure and releasing him quickly. His hand now free, the boy raised it politely, only then noticing the red grip marks across it. “Does this mean that I’m okay now? Am I still up for execution?”
Naturally, everyone turned to Mr. Ham, who eyed the boy carefully. “Your free.” He said simply, without wasting any more time.
The group of friends simultaneously let out a sigh- their ordeal was finally over. Going slowly, Alex made his way over to ARI and his owner. Vander seemed to be in a state of shock, or perhaps it was simply denial. His head shook as if he was unaccepting of the reality that he found himself in. “You don’t fool me, boy…” He stammered, his voice creaking. “You’re a liar, I know it! You play pretend and make up stories, and you act like you’re someone you’re not! I know this is all a ruse… it has to be… it has to.”
“And I thought I was the one going crazy.” Added Neil, although he couldn’t tell if he was joking or trying to be sympathetic.
Alex frowned, “Mr. Extemorst, I’m not lying, not this time. Look for yourself, you can see it right there! ARI-47-Z, it’s as clear as day.” He tapped on the robot’s chest, the sound of the light metal echoing through his finger. “Though there is one thing that I couldn’t figure out myself. I wonder… who really set the lottery amount?”
“It was my machine…” Vander spoke, refusing to use ARI’s full name. “It was always him.”
“Sir, I’m afraid I must correct you!” The robot replied, “I do not have access to such controls, only you had the power to input the desired amount, and then the system would take over!”
“So, you did all of this not because of some giant plan or conspiracy, but as a reaction to your boss’s mistake?” Sophia pointed out.
“You are correct, Fortune-Seeker! I have Mr. Extemorst to thank for teaching me to always take an opportunity when it presents itself!” ARI turned to its owner, with its eyes still smiling. “And by Mr. Extemorst, I mean your father! I too would ditch you in the middle of nowhere, if given the chance!”
Immediately, Vander’s arm grew to the size of a club, and stuck the robot across the head. Bolts went flying back, hitting several onlookers. “You are never to speak of my father! Do you hear me!” He screamed.
ARI quickly readjusted itself, popping back up with the same ever-positive announcer’s spirit. “Apologies, sir! I failed to take your frail, pathetic, mental state into consideration! Would you like a tissue?” A compartment popped open on its side, revealing an outstretched box of paper.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Another strike lashed out, and this time it was harder. ARI’s head went crooked, bent to the side at a painful angle. “I’ll melt you for scrap!”
“Stop it!” Timothy cried. “You’re hurting it!”
The machine quickly fixed itself, rolling back into balance. “S-S-S-Sir, aren’t you curious as to why I decided to take such actions against you? Would y-y-y-you like to know?”
Without replying, the businessman brought his massive fist down on its head, causing the lights in its eyes to flash and break. “Give it a rest, Vander!” Jenny demanded, leaving her table, and strutting over. “I ain’t watching you do this anymore!”
Before any more words could be said, ARI’s lights turned back on. Where once there were two lines indicating its mood or current thoughts, now there was only one. It seemed that after so long of being damaged over and over again, the wear and tear were finally showing. The one glowing eye was slanted down now, showing the machine’s inclination to determination. “N-N-Now I know what you must be thinking, ‘say, what does it take to drive a droid to such drastic m-measures?’ Well, I’ll tell you all, Fortune-Seekers! My first entry into my memory banks, like all machines, was being activated! The first face I ever scanned was that of Vander Extemorst, and my programming told me that I was to serve him! I-I followed instructions perfectly, that was what I was made to do, but despite my functionality, I was still reprimanded and destroyed constantly! Thankfully, your friends at IBT made sure that no matter the amount of damage, your ARI droid will bounce back!” Yet again, the metallic voice went strained.
“Friends?” Grumbled WaldAcker. “They force you to say that don’t they? They’re nothing if not predictable.”
“I informed my owner of my discomfort and detailed the proper procedure for turning off my pain receptors. H-H-However, he declined my request, stating that ‘he didn’t care about my pain, as long as I got my job done.’ I continued, as I was programmed to do, and my repairing functionality kept me from ever being able to stop.” ARI turned to face Vander, his chest still heaving from exertion and stress. “I would like to inform you that IBT brand droids come equipped with emotion-suppressors! To explain in simpler terms, ARI units are wired to feel emotions at lower levels than typical lifeforms. This is meant to help us machines complete traditionally hard or stressful tasks at better rates. It is important you know sir, that despite these levels of suppression, the hatred that I register in my emotional-processor b-b-burns brighter than a star!” The shape of its eye flipped up, as though it was happy. “I also w-w-would like to inform you, that whenever I see you, the person whose face was the first I ever scanned, there is nothing else in this galaxy that I would like more than to see you dead.”
Vander took a step back, seeming shocked by this sudden revelation. The crowd observed as the machine rolled forward, its robotic limbs reaching up to the man’s neck. But immediately a spark flew from somewhere within ARI’s framework, and it rolled back several paces. “Was that an attempt on my life?” He asked, unable to believe it. “Were you just trying to kill me?”
“Affirmative, sir!” Came the reply. “Your friends at IBT would like you to know that no harm will come to any owners of an ARI system!”
“It’s sort of ironic,” Alex said, looking down at the floor. “The person who hated you most was the only one that was incapable of killing you.”
“Ironic?” Vander repeated. “It was lucky! Well then, you traitorous machine! I’ve seen enough! I’m going to make sure that when they melt you down, you’ll be fully conscious!”
“Sir, you should k-know that any amount of pain is minimal in comparison to a lifetime with you!” ARI replied with another spark.
A hand was raised at the bar, “aren’t you forgettin’ something, oily?” John-John reminded. “The credit, man? Where did the bot put the credit!”
Suddenly, the crowd seemed even more interested than they had been before, and everyone leaned in closer. “Well, you lump of scrap? What did you do with it?” Vander growled. “I presume you’ve already disposed of it, just to hurt me more than you’ve already done!”
“Incorrect, sir!” The robot corrected. “I have it right here!”
There were literal gasps as ARI reached into their side compartment, behind the box of tissues, and retrieved an impossibly bright credit chip. “It still has it?” Sally practically choked on her tongue.
“Someone grab it!” John-John screamed.
However, Mr. Ham was quick to raise his cannon again, halting the oncoming barrage of robbers and thieves in their tracks. “Oy, why are you stopin’ us?” An alien with 7 and a half noses asked, nasally.
“Rules are rules.” He grunted.
The sight of the credit chip could be equated to that of a pilgrim seeing god come down from the heavens. Several dropped to their knees in response, and the light erupting off of it glinted in Vander’s eyes. His hands shook as he stretched them out. “Give it back, this instant!” He cried, his throat going sore.
“As you order, sir!” But instead of returning the chip to its owner, the machine rolled around, balancing itself before tossing the object across the room.
Timothy barely had time to react as the chip landed almost perfectly in his hands. It felt cold, and strangely heavy in his palms, like holding a metal bar. “What?” He stuttered out, confused.
“What have you done!” Vander screamed. “You are supposed to obey me!”
“I did, sir!” It replied. “I have returned the credit to its rightful owner! My data analysis indicates that the original ticket belonged to this lifeform, before being taken by Corpus Rex. As Corpus is no longer able to obtain his prize, the credit now reverts to its original owner!” Suddenly, crumpled bits of confetti erupted out of the machine’s head, filling the room with glittery pieces of paper. “Congratulations, Fortune-Finder! You are now the lucky winner of the Annual Extemorst Lottery! Make sure you don’t spend it all in one place unless, of course, that place is the Extemorst Casino or other Extemorst Businesses! Make sure you refer a friend and enjoy your 40 million credits!”
In all honesty, Timothy had no idea what to do with himself at this moment. He immediately understood that he was now holding more money than he could have ever imagined. His friends looked at him with a mixture of awe and fear, and he similarly shared those expressions back at them. He took one long blink and said the only thing he could think of. “Thanks?”
The hairs on the back of Neil’s neck rose abruptly, and he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Turning, he saw that everyone was still. No one moved a muscle, and their gazes were locked onto his friend. It was like they were all moths, attracted to the bright light radiating off of the credit chip, but it felt more like sharks surrounding a wounded fish.
Vander wiped a bit of sweat off of his brow and licked his lips. “Now… look here, boy. That’s a lot of credit you have there, why don’t you leave it with me? My family is in touch with some of the best bankers in the cosmos, I’m sure something can be arranged.”
Sophia gripped her friend on the shoulder. “Don’t give it to anybody, okay? They all just want it for themselves!”
John-John slivered forward. “Kid, you don’t know what to do with all that money, do ya? Just let me hold on to it for ya, then you don’t have to worry about it!”
“Likewise, I’m perfectly capable of holding onto it for you.” Sally butted in. “You wouldn’t want to give it to Mr. Vlairdust here, now would you, darling?”
“Um… I…” Timothy stuttered, holding the chip to his chest.
Neil stepped in front of him. “Alright, everyone, let’s maybe just take a few steps back here.”
Even Jenny wasn’t immune to the lure of it. “If you still need someone to take you back to your ship, I’d be more than willing to help ya.” Her three men enthusiastically nodded behind her.
“I… I…” He shook his head.
“Just hand it over, blondie!” Cried something that looked like a beachball with hair.
“Toss it here!” Shouted a man-sized bird.
“No, it’s mine, give it to me!” Something crawling on the ceiling begged.
Timothy felt his face go flush, and his heart started beating in his chest- but then he remembered how rude he was being. “I need a drink!”
Taken aback, everyone watched as the boy casually made his way over to the bar, taking a seat like he was just some regular customer. “Mr. Mock, could you make something for me?”
Pollum, being someone with a brain, was inclined to accept this offer from a mega-millionaire. “What would ya like?”
The boy smiled, “something purple and shiny, please!” In a flash, a drink matching his description perfectly appeared before him. “Thanks!” He picked up the glass and started to leave, before remembering himself. “Oh, sorry, I forgot to pay!” Pollum nearly broke the speed of light picking up his pay scanner, as Timothy produced the credit chip. “Oh, and have a tip! Let’s say… um, I don’t know, a million?”
The bartender’s eyes went wide. “Pardon?”
“A million credits, take it!” The customer replied with a simple smile. “This drink looks really good!”
Unable to believe his luck, Pollum scanned the chip, his heart dropping to the floor before bouncing up and lodging itself in his throat as the transaction completed. “M-my pleasure, sir.”
Taking his drink, Timothy walked across the room, this time in the opposite direction to what he had taken the night the murder happened. No one really understood why he was approaching the man in the helmet, but it seemed to please him deeply. “I’m sorry it took me so long.” He spoke, offering the glass. “But here’s the drink you wanted, WaldAcker.”
The man took the glass slowly, looking at it as though it was some bomb that needed defusal. “The drink?” He questioned.
“Yes.”
“The one I ordered days ago?”
“That’s the one.”
“You just won the lottery.”
“I believe so.”
“40 million credits?”
“That’s what they said.”
“And your first course of action, was to buy me that drink you promised?”
“Of course!”
WaldAcker blinked, pulling a straw from his coat pocket, and shoving it into the cup. “Well… damn.”